


landslide (bring it down)

by sinshineboi



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Cop AU, Emotional Hurt, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season 2 spoilers, but here we are, criminal investigation au, idk what I want as the main ship, idk what I want in general, idk where this will go, inspired by stevie nicks, it's 12 am, lance centric, late night writing ideas, romance is questionable?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 03:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9580982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinshineboi/pseuds/sinshineboi
Summary: Lance has always been a good cop; he's one of the best on the team. Yet, ever since his accident, he hasn't been around or answering phone calls. No one knows if he will be returning to the team, and they can only have hope that he hasn't succumb to the nightmares they know haunt him. The past of Lance McClain haunts him because one mission didn't go as planned and now he's slowly paying for it as the paranoia eats him alive.A year and six weeks later and the sharpshooter returns.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been binge watching criminal tv shows so here we are. Voltron cop au. Kind of follows some events that happened in season 2.

_Silence._

_It was deafening really._

_Ironic how it doesn't make a sound yet it speaks volumes._

_Hands trembled around the holster of a government issued gun, breath falling from parted lips in heavy pants as the figure made his way through the building that was supposed to be secured. They had been told that the mission wouldn't be compromised and using Coran as bait wouldn't be an issue. Yet, here they were. The team was separated and all communications had been lost._

_The first blast had caught them all by surprise of course, but it didn't take long for the sharpshooter to understand the situation and dash down the halls, abandoning his post._

_The second blast had caused parts of the building to crumble, separating the trained shooter from the rest of his teammates. It didn't matter, though. His new mission was to find and protect Coran at all costs. Nothing was going to come to harm the medical examiner if the tanned male could help it._

_He had just reached the main control room and grabbed a hold of Coran before the third blast went off. There hadn't been enough time to dodge, not both of them at least. So Lance used whatever strength adrenaline was pumping through his body to throw Coran out the exit before the bomb exploded behind him, sending his body tumbling through the air. He landed with a sickening thud, unmoving. He couldn't even open his eyes, and he figured this was probably the end for him. The end of the great and powerful Lance, sharpshooter extraordinaire. He was leaving behind quite the legacy._

_The fourth blast-_

 

Woke him up as it did every night since the accident.

Lance jolted into a sitting position with his knees pressed to his chest as if he were trying to protect himself from some sort of threat that wasn't actually there. He was safe within the walls of his home, or his new home at least. After being sent on leave, the Cuban had made sure to relocate himself without notifying the team. He didn't want them coming out to see him in such a torn state. Only Allura, the director, knew of his whereabouts, and she had been sworn to secrecy. It was better that way.

At least he thought it was.

It was starting to get harder and harder to tell himself that leaving was the best thing for him and the team. He hands longed to hold the familiar weight of a gun again, and to feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he chased down their suspect. It had been over a year, though. He should be over it. Honestly, he would be surprised if his team even wanted him back. He had disappeared on them after all. Nothing was left behind except his gun and badge as well as a letter he had written in apology. An apology for not being able to protect Coran or the team as much as he should have.

But he missed them.

That much was certainly clear and there was nothing the brunette could do to stop himself from feeling that way. He missed the way Shiro would occasionally bark orders at him, but have that soft expression that showed he wasn't mad, just worried. He missed how excited Hunk would get when new forensic evidence was brought in because he would get that little sparkle in his eye. He missed the way Pidge could use their hacking skills for just about anything, even hacking into Lance's computer to find out his birthday so the team could throw him a party. He missed Coran's quirkiness and unique medical examiner habits. He missed Allura's mother bear personality where she even cracked the whip on Shiro a few times. And, most of all, he missed his little fights with Keith. He missed how they would go at each others' throats yet at the end of the day, they had each others' backs through and through. No mishaps.

Well, none until the accident, that is.

Lance shook his head to clear the negative thoughts because they weren't certainly helping, and he glanced at the clock.   _3:21 AM_ glared back at him in a bright red glow causing an annoyed groan to leave his lips. Despite having over a year to rest and get used to life away from headquarters, Lance still woke up at ungodly hours, ready for any sort of alarm to start going off when in reality there was nothing. Yet there was nothing he could do to make himself go back to sleep so he forced himself out of bed, flinching back when his bare feet met the cold hardwood floor. He must have forgotten to turn on the heat before he fell asleep. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately; forgetting to do even the simplest of things because his mind was preoccupied with going back to work.

"I hate this," he growled, fist coming down against his mattress due to his agitation, "I can't keep living like this. I have to go back."

Irritated breaths soon turned to sighs as he moved his head to his hands. Could he do it? Could he go back to a team that he had abandoned over a year ago? Would they even want him back? It sure didn't feel like he had been wanted there in the first place, which is how he validated leaving without a trace.

What if they hated him?

It was that moment that Lance realized he was crying, the salty taste hitting his lips in slow, steady streams. Harsh barks of laughter that sounded so hollow emitted from his lips until they evaporated into body-shaking sobs. He didn't even register himself grabbing his cellphone and dialing a number until a familiar, feminine voice answered, "Hello? This is Allura of Voltron Headquarters speaking. Who-"

"Allura," he sobbed, interrupting his former boss, who sucked in a sharp breath as she realized who was calling, "I don't want to do this anymore. This being alone is tearing me apart, and I thought it would help me get better. It's not getting better! I hate being alone! I want to come back. I  _need_ to come back home. Please..."

He could hear movement on the other side of the phone as Allura dashed back to her office before she could brief the team on whatever new mission had been assigned to them. She ignored the odd looks she knew were behind her before slamming her door shut in a hurry. "Lance? Lance, I need you to calm down. Breathe. Just take a couple deep breaths and we'll work this out together. You know you're always welcome back, right? You don't have to ask. Do you need me to send a jet?" She asked as she paced back and forth in her office, worry evident in her tone. The man on the other end of the phone certainly did not sound like the man she had spoken to a few weeks ago. He sounded so broken, and it hurt her heart to think that he had been hiding this in all the other phone calls they have had.

"No, don't worry about the jet. I'll figure stuff out on my own. Just.... Just don't tell the team I'm coming back yet. Please, Allura." He hummed, having finally calmed down enough to stop crying. Instead he was making his way to his office to get on his computer and look for the closest flight out of Miami, where he had stationed himself. He couldn't exactly go back home to Cuba to visit his family, so Miami was the closest option. 

"But Lance, they'll be so ha-"

"No, Allura. I don't want them to know yet. So promise me you won't tell them."

There was a moment of silence after Lance had snapped at the director of Voltron. It was a stunned silence because the man had never raised his voice in such a harsh manner at anybody but suspects before. It was a little unnerving, but she eventually found herself giving in to his wishes, "Fine, but you get to explain to them why you haven't contacted any of them in over a year to tell them you're okay. They think you're dead Lance. You owe them that much."

The phone beeped to signal the end of the call, but Allura's last words resonated deep within the tanned male's heart as he paused in his searching. They thought he was dead? It's really no surprised, he supposed, because he had been in pretty bad shape when they sent him to the hospital. Most of his year and six week leave had been spent in a coma in the hospital if he was going to be completely honest. He hadn't alerted the team about which hospital he was staying at or even when he was released, so yeah he wasn't too surprised they had thought he was dead. But Allura made him a deal. She wouldn't tell them he was coming if he manned up and explained why he had disappeared off the face of the earth.

It was ironic, really. Their job was to track down criminals and some of those had gone off the grid, yet they always managed to find them. Lance had managed to slip under their noses or they hadn't bothered searching, and that thought hurt so he quickly pushed it away in favor of ordering tickets on the next flight out of Miami and to D.C. He had two hours to get packed and show up at the airport. Luckily he had never really unpacked. Miami wasn't home.

But he was headed there.

* * *

Allura left her office once the phone call was over, running her fingers through her pale blonde hair. This certainly isn't how she pictured today going at all. Lance had gone even further off the grid in the weeks between phone calls. She hadn't even recognized the number that was calling her until the voice spoke on the other end. He sounded so lost and scared. Nothing like the Lance she remembered. The Lance who would always be throwing pick up lines at anyone in the office. The Lance constantly pulling pranks on everyone, yet the first to jump into danger. He had saved Coran from an explosion. A mission that was meant to gain intel from a brewing terrorist organization called Galra had gone haywire. There had been a mole, she guessed, and Coran was the target for some reason....or was he? 

"-lura!" 

She jolted from her thoughts as the worried expression of Shiro came into her view. She felt slightly disoriented for a little bit until she realized the entire team had questioning expressions on their faces. "Sorry. Important phone call had me distracted. Anyway, we have bigger problems. Two victims in a shooting downtown. No witnesses, but it matches some of the cases we've received from other districts. Pidge take Coran and Hunk down to investigate the crime scene. Bring back every piece of evidence you can. Shiro and Keith, I need you two to go speak to the officers and try to follow how the suspect escaped without one witness seeing him or her. It was a crowded street. Someone had to have seen something. I've requested that the evidence from the other cases be sent over as well. Call if you need anything." She barked out orders, face calm in the eye of a brewing storm. 

Shiro raised a brow in question, but didn't open his mouth to object as he and Keith grabbed their belongings to head out. The clock was ticking, and they had no leads so they needed to get moving. "You got it, boss. We'll let you know if we hear anything important." He responded before stepping into the elevator with a brooding black-haired male by his side. At least they weren't rushing onto a jet or anything. They could go home every night with a case in their city, but they probably won't.

Pidge had already dashed off before the rest of the orders were given because their fingers itched to start the online research on the victims. They loved to put together the puzzle of what connected the different murders and how the suspect chose his or her victims. It was truly fascinating. The only downfall being that this was real life and not fiction. These people had had lives and family that cared about them, and now suddenly they were ripped away from life by someone trying to play God. It was sad really and reminded Pidge of a certain blue-eyed male, who had also been ripped from the team's grasp.

They shook their head to quickly rid themselves of such obtrusive thoughts and brought their focus back to the task at hand. 

* * *

 

Lance could feel his lower lip trembling as he excited the airport, gaze taking in every bit of D.C. that he had missed. It had been so long since he had felt the chill of autumn nip at his nose, and he just wanted to cry at the realization of all the little things he took for granted. Pain flared up in his chest, causing him to clutch at the flimsy material of the military-styled jacket he was never seen without. He had missed so much. It brought his thought process back to the team; he felt the heat of shame grace his facial features. Was this even the right move? Coming back? Surely they didn't want him. Would he just have to turn right back around and disappear again? 

No.

No more hiding from the truth.

He was going to face his fears head on instead of being a coward for once. If they didn't want him, then it was his own damn fault for hiding from them for so long. It would be his punishment for not at least confirming that he was okay with them. They had to have worried a lot, and they probably still hurt because of him. So he had to do this.

Perhaps that's why Lance didn't immediately return to his home with his luggage, but instead, he hailed a cab and dragged his belongings with him, one destination in mind.

_ACIU._

_Altea Criminal Investigative Unit._

More specifically, though, he was returning for  _Voltron_ , his specialized team. The best team at the agency if you asked anybody around. They were the team that worked the more intense missions regarding the safety of the country: terrorists, to be exact. Lance had been exhilarated when he found out he was becoming part of the team. He wouldn't shut up about it for weeks before he started the job.

But it's a job that wears at you.

Especially when you lost count of how many times you almost died on a mission.

Actually, Lance hasn't lost count. It's the one aspect of his life that he's meticulous about. He keeps a journal entry for every mission he's ever participated in and has them categorized by difficulty. The near-death folder was bigger than he would like to admit. He keeps those folders hidden away, though, for fear someone from his family or his team would find them and realize that he wasn't as okay as he made himself out to be. He didn't need people worrying about him when he wasn't worth worrying over.

A sigh escaped his trembling lips as he paid the cab driver and slipped out of the taxi upon reaching his destination. The building loomed above him, casting shadows over his already-dreary mindset. He could do this. Lance McClain could face his fears head on. 

So the blue-eyed male pushed forward into the building with an edge to his step that showed he would bolt if the situation called for it. He readjusted the sunglasses on his face, fingers now trembling as well, before walking over to the front desk, gaze moving ever-so-slightly to take in the room as a whole. It hadn't changed much besides some new artwork and plants. All the escape routes were accessible if the situation called for it. He practically snatched the visitor's pass from the secretary, mumbling a thanks before making a dash for the elevator and pressing the close button before anyone could even think of getting into the elevator with him. He was being extremely paranoid; he knew that, but he couldn't stop that nagging feeling at the back of his neck that hadn't left since after he had been deemed healthy enough to take care of himself by his doctor. He had to constantly be on alert, eyes everywhere. Tension in every muscle, ready to strike or flee. 

 _Ding_.

Lance jolted out of his thoughts, cursing himself for getting so distracted. He edged his way out of the elevator and breathed out of sigh upon noticing all the desks were empty where his team should have been. No direct confrontation yet, perfect. He allowed himself to relax ever so slightly as he got closer to the desks, immediately taking note that his desk hadn't been touched. All the pictures and stupid knick-knacks were still where he left them, and he trailed his fingers over the mahogany wood fondly. So maybe his suspicions were wrong, and his team hadn't forgotten him. He removed his sunglasses with a small grimace at the bright lights so he could get a better look at his old desk, taking in the old memories.

"Don't touch that!"

A shrill shriek caused the tan male to jump almost comically, hand flying to his hip where a gun would have been if he still possessed one as he spun around to see who was the person responsible for yelling.

Pidge.

"Who- L-Lance?!" They asked in disbelief, body shaking as if they had fallen into the hands of some cruel prankster. Their gaze trailed all over the male to take in every detail before tears were welling up in their eyes. The evidence dropped to the floor as sobs wracked their body, and they threw themselves at the obviously taller person, clutching at him like their life depended on it. He could feel his own eyes brimming with tears as he felt their pain through their cries, and it resonated within him so deeply that it was suffocating. He couldn't breathe as he broke down in front of the younger person.

"Y-yeah...it's m-me..."

 


End file.
